Mothers and Brothers
by Janiqua
Summary: SPOILERS for No Exit. SEQUEL to Fathers and Brothers. While trying to deal with the revelation dumped on their heads concerning Ellen's husband and John Winchester, the brothers find themselves encountering an old antagonist.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: **I've been wanting to write a story about Ellen for awhile now. But I haven't really been a huge fan of Jo, 'cause she seemed a bit too cliché for me. After watching "No Exit," however, we've been presented with a bit of history concerning the relationship between Jo's father and the boys' father. I think it could definitely add a bit of character to Jo, and that's good, 'cause the last thing any show needs, much less Supernatural, is a stereotypical blonde.

I've also been meaning to write a sequel to "Fathers and Brothers," a pre-series fic I wrote about a week ago. I wasn't originally going to, but people seemed to want one, so I figured I'd kill two birds with one stone, as the saying goes.

**Warning: **There are definitely spoilers to "No Exit," and pretty much everything leading up to it, including "Devil's Trap," "In My Time Of Dying," and "Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things." Again, it's also a sequel – the first sequel I've ever attempted, in fact – so you might want to familiarize yourself with that piece, first. I hope to hear from all of you! Please review.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Supernatural.

**ooooooo**

**SUPERNATURAL**

**Mothers and Brothers**

**ooooooo**

"You know, Sam, I might have expected something like this from your brother, but from you?" Ellen was clearly still upset, and the youngest Winchester couldn't particularly blame her. Sitting on a stool, leaning against the bar in the relatively abandoned Roadhouse, his efforts at diverting himself from the past several nightmarish hours were failing miserably. He didn't know what to do.

Dean was in the backroom with Ash, attempting to make some kind of sense out of all this. When Jo had told him that _their_ dad had been responsible for _her_ dad's death…

Sam had wanted to go. He had wanted to leave and not come back. But Dean… Man, Dean had _not_ reacted in the way one might have expected. He couldn't let it go! Grabbing their dad's journal, he had gone off in search of the Roadhouse's local genius, hoping that maybe he could discover for himself what had actually happened all those years ago. Jo wasn't with him. As far as Sam knew, she was still out taking a walk, trying to cool her head. Hell, they had only been back from their hunt for about an hour, and now _this_? If it had been him in her place… he'd be out walking too.

_"Please. Just leave," Jo said, looking up at one astonished Hunter. For the first time in… well… in as long as he could remember, Dean was speechless. Without another word – without even waiting for a response – the blonde turned around and walked away. For several long minutes, all was silent as the two brothers watched her disappear into the distance._

_"Screw this," Dean spun on his heel and marched angrily back towards the Impala. Sam, who had been standing quite a distance away from the two during all this, wasn't entirely sure what just happened. Now he watched his brother in confusion, unable to speak a word as the Hunter roughly jerked open the car door, grabbed their dad's journal, and turned towards the Roadhouse._

_"Dean, what's up?" Sam asked, reading his brother like a book. The man was pissed! Sam couldn't help but follow, while taking extreme care not to crowd him. Ellen herself almost seemed to be waiting for them inside, sitting on a stool with a haunted expression on her face that was mixed with pain as visible as the tears pouring down her cheeks._

_"We trusted you," Dean told her harshly and without prelude. She glanced up at him coldly, not bothering to respond. Not that Dean gave her much of a chance to do so, anyway. "We told you about Sam! About his abilities! And you didn't even _think_ that we might be interested in knowing that you don't trust us back?"_

_"Dean, what's going on?" Sam cut in, taking a step towards his brother, who responded with an angry glare that clearly said, _Back off, Sammy!

_"It's not that I don't trust you boys," Ellen told him quietly._

_"The hell it isn't," Dean shot back, furious. "Your daughter is fine! We didn't ask her to come with us! I figured she'd probably end up hunting one way or the other, with or without us, and figured that with us she'd at least be safer! At least then she'd have someone to keep an eye on her, you know? Yes, she did get herself into a lot of trouble, but we got her out and she's just fine! How much trouble do you think she'd be in if we had sent her back to you? She would have found something else to hunt, she would have taken off again, and we wouldn't have been there to save her! The way I see it, we did your daughter a favor, and you didn't even thank us! Now, I can't even begin to imagine what happened between my dad and Mr. Harvelle, but you can't say you don't trust us if you think it's gonna happen again, and you know it."_

_Ellen practically jumped to her feet, once again well beyond furious. "I'm a mother, Dean Winchester! This world is literally crawling with demons, and when it comes to her safety, I wouldn't even trust-!" She stopped short, covering her mouth. It looked like she was choking, and she turned away from them rather quickly. Sam made a step towards her, but Dean held his arm out, stopping him. After another minute had passed, she looked back at them while struggling to keep herself composed. "Sometimes I don't even think I can trust myself."_

_"Well I'm gonna find out the truth," Dean told her tersely, holding up his father's journal. Ellen must have recognized it, for her eyes widened in shock. The eldest Winchester nodded. "It would be in here, wouldn't it? When it comes to hunting, my dad doesn't make mistakes. There's gotta be more to your husband's death, and I'm gonna find out."_

_"You don't have the right," Ellen spat through clenched teeth._

_"Dean," Sam turned towards his brother, not for the first time scared by what he was seeing. When it came to John Winchester… his brother could be painfully sensitive – not that he would ever admit it. Sam knew better than anyone… Hell, he knew from personal experience… that anyone who even _suggested _such a thing was bound to get struck hard in the face._

_"Get comfortable, Sammy," Dean had said quietly, storming towards Ash's room without even a backwards glance. "We're not going anywhere 'till I learn the truth."_

They had just returned from a hunt! It was as if Dean had a complete immunity to fatigue! Sam himself wanted nothing more than to just sleep for a week! His hand was still killing him. And now Ellen was getting on _his_ back for allowing Jo to hunt with them? What was he supposed to say?

Opting to rather keep quiet, the younger Winchester stared at the back wall without even blinking. It was only when Ellen dropped her rag on the bar's surface and positioned herself directly in his line of sight that he glanced up at her reluctantly. He obviously couldn't hide the fact that he was feeling greatly, greatly overwhelmed, but Ellen either didn't notice or didn't seem to care. She was wearing a large frown, her arms were crossed in front of her, and for the first time in as long as Sam could remember, it felt like he was staring up at an extremely disappointed mother. Well… technically, he was… but he hadn't expected it to feel… like this…

"You should have called," she told him sternly. "_You_, at least! I expected more from you, Sam."

"I know," he said quickly, glancing down in dejection. "I get it. We put your daughter's life in danger. It was stupid, irresponsible… And I get it." He looked back up at her with such despair spread across his face that not even she, not even then, could help but feel a twinge of sympathy for his plight. He was, after all, still just a boy. She wasn't looking at John Winchester here! Sam was a kid, and heaven knows that kids got themselves into all kinds of trouble. Sam sighed. "Dean's all I have left. If things had happened differently, and it had been you putting him at risk, I'd be feeling exactly the same way. Believe me."

"Then why didn't you call?" Ellen asked, her voice suddenly softer than it had been before. "You let your brother lie to me. Why was that?" It seemed absurd that they should be talking about this. But then again… Ellen probably thought it would prove to be less awkward than discussing the finer details of her husband's partnership with his father. Sam, however, wasn't sure he agreed.

"Because…" he hesitated. The moments seemed to run on into eternity, but even still, Dean didn't come out to offer any kind of solution whatsoever. Sam felt painfully alone. "I really don't think I can explain it."

"Try," Ellen insisted. "We all know what's coming, Sam, and I want to be able to trust you when it does. But Dean was right. Unless I know for sure that you boys aren't about to do something that will take away all that's left of my family, I'm not sure I'll be able to. I _do _trust that you can appreciate that."

"Believe me when I say I can," Sam replied earnestly. He tried not to think about what would happen if he were alone. Dean was all he had left. Jo was all Ellen had left. Truth be told, they were all in the same exact boat, from which people could fall overboard in the blink of an eye. "I…" This all just hurt too much! His heart felt like it was bleeding. Even worse, his head was starting to throb. He reached his hand up to massage it, but, unsurprisingly, found that nothing he did could even slightly soothe the pain. "Our father's dead… It happened… I was driving towards the hospital, when this… semi… crashed into us." Sam swallowed hard. It hurt… God, did it hurt.

Dean couldn't remember the accident. Hell, Sam wasn't even sure whether or not their father had remembered it afterwards! But… _he_ couldn't forget. _He_ still had nightmares about it… The impact… The darkness… broken only by the semi's blindingly bright, blaring headlights… The demon… tearing off the driver's door… Their conversation… The feel of blood sliding down his face… But worse of all… the frightening silence… When he had called for his dad… he had been answered by a terrible, horrendous silence that pierced his heart. Sam had been alone that night. Completely, utterly alone.

Kinda like he was right now.

Man, it felt like his head was spinning around in circles!

Ellen was staring at him intently, her lips pursed, her brow furrowed. She looked terribly concerned about something… Whether or not she knew where Sam was going with all this, she was still concerned. The fact that a Winchester could make such a confession as this… was in itself something beyond her wildest expectations. This was more serious than she had originally thought.

"I escaped with… just a few cuts and bruises," Sam went on, staring at her shoulder, unable to meet her gaze. "A minor concussion. Nothing too serious. But… Dean nearly died. Hell, he _was_ dead, for about a minute, but the doctors brought him back. There was…" He shook his head as tears began stinging his eyes… blurring his vision… "There was a Reaper after him."

Ellen practically dropped down onto a stool in shock. "A Reaper?" She could feel her heart beating in her throat. "How'd he escape?"

Sam shook his head, taking a deep, deep breath. "We're not sure… But… the evidence seems to point to our father. Dean thinks that… well… it's pretty clear that our dad made a deal with the demon. He gave up his own life so Dean could live. It's been… it's been tearing him apart."

"I am so sorry," Ellen told him, not for the first time. Despite everything, Sam could hear the sincerity in her voice. He wasn't sure whether or not he appreciated it. After all this…

"Dean hasn't been able to deal," he told her quietly. "Shortly after we visited our mom's grave, he admitted that he felt responsible. He let his guard down… for a couple moments… He asked me to say something… and I couldn't. I couldn't say anything, Ellen! The one time your brother actually asks you for help… for support… and I… I messed it up." He reluctantly glanced her way. "Do you have any idea what that feels like?"

Ever so slightly, Ellen shook her head. Honestly, she hadn't ever been put in that kind of a situation. What these boys were going through… she knew she would never even begin to understand.

"I guess I hoped that Jo would be able to do something for him that I couldn't," Sam admitted. "I didn't call you when she showed up because… I guess I was hoping for a miracle." He took another deep breath, and attempted to wipe his eyes dry. What must she think of him now? "I was selfish. I should have known…" His ears were starting to ring. Breathing became more difficult, and he turned away from her, from the bar, and was halfway off the stool when he froze, one hand pressed firmly against his temple. He started mumbling… Ellen could barely comprehend his words. "I didn't think… I should have… more than anyone else… I know what… it feels like not to… not to have… I know what it's like… to have everyone you care about taken from you… To live fearing that the only person left in the world who matters… could die… and there's nothing you can do to protect 'em…"

"Sam?" Ellen stared at the boy in sudden alarm. Maternal instincts kicking in, she realized that something was wrong. Walking out from behind the bar, she made her way over to the youngest Winchester and grabbed his shoulders firmly. "Sam, what's the matter?"

The room seemed to be blinking on and off. Sam winced, glancing up at Ellen, but unable to make out her face. It felt like he was growing blind. His head compressed tightly – it felt like something had wrapped around it and was now squeezing it to bits… crushing him to death… The ringing grew louder… it was deafening. "I…"

Ellen glanced over her shoulder. "DEAN!" She had extremely powerful lungs. Her voice alone was enough to sober a drunken Ash, for crying out loud! Within seconds she could hear a door being flung open. Obviously, big brother wasn't in a particularly pleasant mood. Not that _that_ was surprising.

When he appeared in the barroom, however, and saw the condition that his brother was in, the world itself might have started rotating in the opposite direction, so great was the change that came over his entire countenance. "Sammy!" He charged towards his brother, and Ellen was wise enough to get out of the way immediately. Standing back, she watched as Dean helped Sam off the stool and onto the ground. "Sammy, what is it?"

Ellen couldn't believe what she was seeing. Of course, she had been warned about Sam's abilities, but she hadn't realized… they hadn't… they hadn't actually told her that… that his visions came so _painfully_. The boy was in clear physical agony! Ellen felt her heart jolt as Sam cried out. He was trying so hard not to… The way he held onto his brother… Ellen would never have guessed before that moment just how much the two of them meant to each other. Or just how much in over their heads they were in hot water.

"Sammy?" Dean asked again, trying to keep the panic out of his voice. Up until now, the only time Sam's visions kicked in were whenever they involved other kids – like Max and Andy – or the demon itself.

"Someone's coming," Sam managed to get out as the pain slowly subsided. The ringing slowly died down, and the headache eased. Still struggling to breathe, however, and quite shaken by his latest vision, Sam looked up at his brother in pure despair. "Dean…"

"Who's coming?"

Sam couldn't answer. All he could do was sit there… fight to breathe… fight not to panic… It was just so hard…

The door to the Roadhouse suddenly opened. Ellen jumped, sweat breaking out on her brow. Sam started shaking. Dean held onto him tighter, unwilling to let him go even though instinct was screaming at him to grab a gun and shoot whoever the hell it was invading their privacy. Together, all three of them turned their heads to watch as a large, _large _man entered the saloon. Wearing boots, jeans, and a green and white plaid shirt, armed to the teeth – though seemingly not there looking for trouble – he almost reminded them of a Hunter.

But the thing was… he _wasn't_ a Hunter. He wasn't even close!

"Oh my God," Dean whispered, staring at the newcomer in pure shock. It wasn't possible! It couldn't _possibly_ be possible! There just wasn't any way…!

Chet Douglas – an old drunkard who had once upon a time been the Winchesters' neighbor – was standing in the threshold, staring at the lot of them in open confusion. Sam whimpered, clutching hold of his brother's arm tightly as the man who ought to have been locked away behind bars slowly started towards them.

**ooooooo**

**A/N:** Please review. I need to know what everyone thinks! Thanks so much!


	2. Chapter 2

**Warning: **This chapter has its fair share of language in it. But it's not too bad, and I hope you all enjoy it!

**ooooooo**

_"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"_

_"Where do you think you're going, Tommy?"_

_"I think you need a timeout, Tommy."_

_"Tell your father that you love him."_

_"This won't last any longer than it has to."_

_"You think he cares about you?_ _If he cared, why hasn't he come to get you? He knows you're missing, and he's probably thanking his lucky stars! He doesn't deserve a boy like you! No one deserves a boy like you! Except me."_

_"It's not 'mister,' Sammy._ _Not anymore. From now on, I'm your father, and you're going to address me as such. And I'm going to address you as Tommy. Do you understand?"_

_"SAMMY!"_

_"This one's not _your _son anymore. He's _mine_!"_

_"You'll never be his father, you know. Now, I'm not going to even try pretending that I'm better than you. Because, one way or the other, Sammy _did _still run away from me. Every bit as your son ran away from you."_

_"I think it's time you made a choice, boy! Who do you want as a father? Him? Or me? Make it _real _good Tommy, or I swear to God I'll kill him!"_

_"Sammy, whatever happens… You do what you have to do. Understand?"_

_"I… I know… you're… you're my father…"_

_"That's right. And don't you forget it, Tommy. We're leaving. Me and my boy."_

_"I'd rather have a dead son than no son at all."_

**ooooooo**

Ellen didn't know him. She had never seen him before in her entire life. But there was something about him that instantly put her on guard. Maybe it had something to do with the way Sam and Dean were watching him, huddled together on the floor, both looking like spotted prey – though the expression that had crossed Dean's face _did_ remind her more of an angry wildcat. He was _not_ the kind of Hunter one generally messed around with, and Ellen couldn't help but wonder what the stranger could possibly have done to deserve such blatant hatred.

"'Scuse me," he presently slurred, walking farther into the saloon. His gaze fell on the two boys, both of whom stared back at him uneasily. The tension in the room was like nothing Ellen had ever experienced before in her life, even when arguing with Jo. Hell, even when arguing with Dean – who reminded her so much of his father!

"You'll have to forgive us," she told the stranger stiffly, forcing herself to focus on him instead of the boys. Sam looked like he was still in quite some pain, and Ellen didn't think she could bear witnessing anymore of that. Why hadn't they told her his visions did this to him? At a glance, they seemed to be killing him, for crying out loud! They should have at least _mentioned_ it!

But… well, obviously their lack of trust still ran deeper than she might have expected. Crossing her arms, she took a deep breath and struggled to remain calm. "We're closing early, today."

The stranger's lingering gaze on Sam swept towards Ellen. He didn't seem to be particularly surprised by her words. "He sick or something?"

"As a matter of fact…"

"That's none of your business."

"He is."

Ellen and Dean both glanced at each other in growing irritation, and Chet Douglas – as Dean knew him – stared between the two with a small smile curling across his face. If he thought this was funny… Dean would kill him!

"We called an ambulance, and it should be well on its way," Ellen continued, taking a step towards the stranger. She didn't know why… she couldn't even begin to _fathom_ why… the boys both seemed to be on edge when this guy didn't even seem to know who they were. But something wasn't right about all this. And she had a sneaking suspicion that the sooner they got rid of the man, the better it would be all around. And, despite everything… she wasn't about to let anything happen to John Winchester's children. "I'm going to have to ask you to find somewhere else to eat."

Douglas stared at her for a long moment, and then glanced back at Sam again. The boy was shaking, gripping his brother tightly, and absolutely refusing to meet anyone's gaze. He was soaked to the skin in sweat, as Ellen was, but at least she could still breathe easily. Sam did indeed look ill, honest to God, and it wasn't just because of the vision he had had moments before. Something else was going on here.

"Fine," the man said after a moment. But he didn't turn back towards the door. Instead, he picked up his pace and approached Ellen so quickly that her heart literally leapt into her throat. It was all she could do to keep herself steady, though evidently she was capable of managing it better than Dean, who practically jumped up in alarm, dragging Sam with him.

But Douglas had merely wanted to hand the woman a folded piece of gray paper, which he had stored in his pocket. From the looks of it, it seemed to be nothing more than a cutout from a newspaper or something. Ellen accepted it hesitantly, but then curiosity took control, and she unfolded it as quickly as she could to find herself staring at the picture of a young man. He seemed to be about Sam's age and wore a pleasant enough smile. The caption identified him as a Thomas Jergenson, and praised him for his growing success treating abused and traumatized children. Ellen was hardly able to mask her surprise.

"That there's my boy," Douglas told her, his words causing Sam to visibly flinch. Both she and the stranger glanced in his direction, just in time to watch as Dean moved to position himself in front of his brother, blocking him from sight. With his back turned to Douglas, Dean was able to subtly reach inside his jacket for a knife.

His father had promised him… thirteen years ago… that Chet Douglas would get what he deserved. The bastard had mistaken Sammy for his own child! And _then_ he had had the nerve to try forcing Sam into becoming a replacement for the damn runaway! In his entire life, Dean had never hated another human being the way he hated this particular man. Demons, the Winchester could understand. But men like Chet Douglas…

Men like Chet Douglas gave demons good names. Dean hated them for it. He hated Douglas with a…

The man was supposed to be in prison! Their father had promised them – had assured them – that justice had been served. Granted, it had been thirteen years since then… Maybe the bastard had been released… Dean didn't know all the specifics regarding the man's sentence. At the time, it hadn't seemed that big a deal to him. Douglas was behind bars… and Sammy was safe and sound in the care of his family once again. Never in his wildest dreams had Dean ever foreseen something like _this_!

"You must be very proud of him," Ellen presently humored the man, handing him back the clipping. It was all Dean could do not to bark out derisive laughter. People like Douglas… They didn't know the meaning of the word 'proud'!

"'Course I am," he told her tersely. "But he's missing. I've been trying to track him down for a hell of a long time. Has he passed through here?"

Ellen shook her head. "No. I can't say that he has. Now, if you don't mind, I have my own problems to be dealing with right now." She couldn't help but glance at Sam, and Douglas followed her gaze. With Dean standing between them, however, he didn't get much of a view, and for that Ellen was surprisingly relieved.

The man nodded. "That ambulance sure is taking its time. You want me to give you a lift?"

"No, that won't be necessary," Ellen told him quickly, her relief quickly converting into frustration. What was the matter with this guy? Couldn't he take a hint? "Please, just be on your way."

Dean fiddled with the knife in his hand. It didn't hold any kind of sentimental value the way Jo's did, but he sure as hell liked the way it felt. If Douglas didn't get his ass out of that saloon soon, he was going to learn the hard way just how much Dean liked it. The Winchester was no killer. But this… This was an extremely unique case, and the restraint it took the Hunter not to turn around and give this guy what was coming to him threatened to suffocate.

Douglas was smiling, as if amused. Jerking his head up and down, he turned towards the Roadhouse's front door and made his way outside. As soon as he was gone, Sam let out a loud sigh and sank back towards the ground. He couldn't stop shaking, and he felt colder than ice. He was just so tired…

Making sure his brother was settled on the floor, Dean then quickly hastened towards one of the windows and glanced outside. From that vantage point, he could see Douglas strutting towards an old, practically broken-down station wagon. "Well, Sammy, I think it's safe to say he didn't recognize us."

"Who was that?" Ellen demanded, walking over to Sam and kneeling down next to him. She felt his forehead, sighing in relief when she found he didn't have a fever. He was sweating profusely, to be sure… but it looked like he'd be okay.

"It's a long story," Dean said, watching as Douglas opened the car's hood. He didn't seem to be in any kind of a hurry. The boy couldn't help but wonder how long he'd buy Ellen's ambulance story before growing suspicious – that was, if he wasn't suspicious already… "Maybe, for once, you could just try minding your own business."

Ellen glanced up at him in disgust. "You selfish, selfish boy. Has it even once occurred to you that I might actually care? Dean Winchester, for the last time, we are in this together! And whether you want me to or not, I am going to help."

Dean scoffed, his good mood long gone. "Aren't you worried I might make some kind of horrific mistake, the way you think my dad did, getting you killed? Why should I believe you care about us when you obviously blame our family for your loss?"

Ellen bit her lips. She couldn't believe this! Could this boy _really _be that thick? She got to her feet, trying as hard as she could to keep from crying again. "Let's get one thing straight right here, young man. I do not blame your family for what happened to William. Your father was an incredibly good friend of mine. He made a mistake. William died. That's the price of war. I'm not the one who severed all ties with John. In fact, I seem to remember leaving him a message, offering him my help." She lifted her chin slightly, fighting hard not to let Dean see how much his words were hurting her. She needn't have bothered, though. Dean wasn't even looking at her. His gaze was fixed elsewhere. "Don't tell me he hasn't left yet."

"Nope," Dean shifted uneasily on his feet. "And it looks like we've got ourselves another little problem." He looked back at the mother. "Jo's home."

**ooooooo**

The impala was still sitting there parked in the dusty lot, exactly where Dean had left it over an hour ago. Marching towards the Roadhouse, Jo could not _believe_ he was still there. Whatever happened to sensitivity in this world? Didn't that arrogant Hunter understand the meaning of the words 'please just leave'?

There was a station wagon parked several yards away from the impala. A man was standing in front of it, working underneath its hood. Jo barely favored him with a second glance, choosing instead to focus her attention on the Roadhouse. Coming to a stop in front of it, she crossed her arms and shook her head. Generally, when parents caught their daughters breaking curfew with a bunch of irresponsible troublemakers, they kicked those troublemakers out on their asses. They didn't invite them in for dinner! "Are you kidding me?"

It might have seemed childish to any outsiders looking in – such as that man working on his car. He glanced up at her in genuine surprise – not that she noticed or anything. She was tired. She was stiffer and sorer than she would have liked to admit after her first hunt. And, to make matters worse, she was still trying to come to grips with the harsh reality of the fact that her father had died because… because…

Well, because the most legendary Hunter that she had ever heard of hadn't been quite as heroic as she had romanticized after all. Maybe Dean was right… Either way, it was more than she could take. She just wanted some time away from them. Was that too much to ask for?

The door to the Roadhouse opened, and Ellen slowly walked outside. Her face was hard… guarded… and on edge… It didn't take a genius to figure out she was still pissed. Jo shook her head in disgust. "Tell me they're not still in there."

"Jo, I need you to come inside," Ellen told her daughter stiffly, glancing at the stranger who was watching the show with open interest. Jo herself, however, couldn't believe what she was hearing. She opened her mouth to retort, but before she could say even a single word, her mother went on. "Sam's sick, and there's an ambulance on the way. I could really use an extra pair of hands right now."

"An ambulance?" Jo couldn't hide her skepticism. "You're joking, right? He was perfectly fine an hour ago, and now you expect me to believe he's in a condition critical enough to warrant a trip to the ER? And here I thought the Winchesters were made of tougher stuff."

At that remark, the stranger standing by the station wagon grew suddenly surprisingly rigid. Ellen glanced at him again in time to see his gaze move from Jo towards the Roadhouse. He didn't seem to be looking at the elder woman, however. Instead, he was trying to look past her… at something… or some_one_… inside…

Ellen felt her heart rate shoot up, and she turned back towards her daughter almost desperately. "Joanna Beth Harvelle, get inside this house right now! That is an order!"

Jo took several furious steps forward. "Don't you _dare _start ordering me around! The last thing I need is to have John Winchester for a parent!" Sam had told her all about the man's practical dictatorship. Back on their hunt, when Dean had been sleeping on the couch, Jo had asked him why he had left. It had obviously been an excruciatingly personal question, but like his brother, Sam had clearly wanted to convince her not to sacrifice her chance at living a normal life. He missed his father greatly… but hadn't hesitated in sharing with her all the things he hated most about such an existence. And, for some of it at least, Jo couldn't help but agree with him. Getting ordered around wasn't any fun no matter who you were.

"John Winchester?" the stranger asked, slamming the hood of his car down so savagely that even Jo jumped and glanced at him in distaste. But her distaste quickly melted into something else as he started walking towards her in a way that was… definitely sinister.

"Jo!" Ellen started towards her daughter in growing terror. She still didn't know who this man was, but he obviously didn't care for Winchester anymore than the boys cared for him. And no one – absolutely _no_ _one_ – advanced on her daughter like that!

"Come here," the stranger motioned Jo forward even as he strode towards her. She stared back at him in confusion, unable to fathom what he wanted, though strangely confident that she didn't want to know. The man was quick, and he was terrifyingly huge. Jo didn't even stop to think. When he reached her, she punched him in the face with all the strength that she possessed.

But it wasn't enough. It barely even fazed him – though it _did_ leave her hand painfully, painfully sore. Wincing, she saw him lift his arm and moved as quickly as she could to block his counterstrike. Again, she wasn't even close to being strong enough! It certainly didn't help matters that she was still incredibly taxed from the hunt she had been on for the past few days. The next thing she knew, she was lying in a heap on the ground, feeling dizzy as hell. What was going on?

"Get the hell away from her!" Ellen shouted, striding forward with a gun in her hands. She aimed it at him, more than willing to shoot him through the head if he so much as even _glanced _at her daughter the wrong way again!

The man turned from Jo towards her mother. He wasn't smiling. And he didn't seem to be even the slightest bit concerned with her weapon. "You're a lying bitch, now aren't you? You know perfectly well where my son is, and yet you're trying to keep me from him."

Ellen stared at him in repugnance. No wonder he had Sam and Dean so terrified. He was completely insane. "I don't know what you're talking about." She could hear the door to the Roadhouse opening and closing behind her. She could only imagine that Dean was outside now. And, truth be told, she was _more_ than willing to wager he was not at all happy.

"Hey Douglas!" The eldest Winchester's voice was typically arrogant, though Ellen thought she could detect a hint of underlining apprehension. Whoever this man was, he had Dean angry, yes… but also terrified. Nevertheless, his appearance managed to catch enough of the bastard's attention for Jo to spin her body around with all the speed and power she could possibly muster. Stronger in her lower extremities than in her upper, as it was, she swept her legs against his and somehow succeeded in unbalancing him. He landed heavily on the ground.

"Jo!" Ellen shouted, sprinting towards her daughter – who was already moving herself. Within seconds they were at each other's sides, but didn't waste anytime whatsoever in warm reunions. Ellen wrapped her arm around the girl's waist and guided her back towards the Roadhouse as quickly as humanly possible.

Dean, however, was headed in the opposite direction. He had a knife on him, yes, but if he could only get to the impala, he'd have more weapons at hand than he could possibly imagine! Something in his gut was telling him that, against _this_ man, he'd more than likely need them…

Before he was able to reach the precious vehicle, however, he heard Jo scream. Stopping short, Dean spun around just in time to watch Douglas – who had apparently caught up with the women – grab Ellen. He tore the gun from her hands, threw her violently to the ground, and aimed the weapon at her head.

Dean forgot about the weapons in his car. Grabbing his knife, he pulled it free from its sheath and started towards Douglas. Jo was screaming. One moment she was attempting to get her mother back up off the ground, and the next she was trying to push back their assaulter. But it did no good. Douglas merely grabbed a handful of her hair and forced her behind him. Ellen started scooting away in wide-eyed horror as he cocked the gun pointed at her face.

"Douglas!" Dean shouted, starting to run. He couldn't let… He couldn't let anything happen to this family! No matter what it was going on between them, he couldn't deny just how much they all had in common. How much they all shared. At this point, aside from Sammy that was, they were the closest people to him in the entire world. He couldn't let… He couldn't lose them, too!

"FATHER, STOP! THAT'S ENOUGH!"

It came out of nowhere. Dean stopped short so suddenly that he was actually quite surprised he didn't land on his face. Ellen – whose heart had been racing up until that second – could now feel it literally freezing in place. What the… hell? Jo looked up in astonishment, unable to believe what she was hearing. And Douglas…

Douglas smiled as if he had found, at long last, the greatest treasure known to man. He did not move the gun away from Ellen's head. But he _did_ turn his gaze from her, and fixed it on Sam, who was standing several yards away looking sick and beyond petrified. "Tommy," he said in a revoltingly, vilely pleasant voice. "Look how much you've grown."

**ooooooo**

**A/N: **You guys have to review! Don't leave me hanging here, I pretty much begging! Send me reviews! Thanks so much. I appreciate it.


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: **This chapter's kinda violent… But then again, it _is_ Supernatural, so it's not gonna be anything too, too terrible. I just thought I'd give you a heads up. Anyway, I hope you all enjoy!

**ooooooo**

Despite the large, wide, empty gape that was presently separating them, Dean could clearly make out the look of stark terror encompassing his little brother. And although Ellen's gaze was completely transfixed on the gun practically held up to her face, she could sense it emanating from the boy, as well. Not even Jo failed to perceive it! Sam was close to panicking…

What was going on? The last time either woman had checked, there weren't any Tommy's in the Winchester family! And whoever this stranger was, he most certainly was _not_ the boys' father! It didn't make any sense whatsoever! What the _hell_ was going on?

"Father, please…" Sam said, fighting to keep breathing as he stepped towards Douglas, who was watching him almost gleefully. "Please… just leave her alone…" Despite everything, he somehow still managed to keep it seemingly together. His voice was soft and steady; he almost sounded like he was trying to pacify a rabid beast or something! "I'm the only person here you want."

By now, it was approaching high noon. The sun was hovering in the middle of the sky, and the heat alone was maddening. Dean did _not_ need something like this right now! He was starving and, despite all appearances, terribly exhausted. Having only just discovered the big old secret concerning William Harvelle's death, having spent by far too much time arguing, cursing, and researching, not to _mention_ having witnessed yet another one of Sammy's horrific visions, he had pretty much had it about up to here with those irritatingly damn stupid plot twists! "Sam, get your ass back inside the Roadhouse! NOW!"

Sam glanced at his brother, shifted his weight uneasily, and looked back at Douglas. It was quite obvious that there were literally a thousand different thoughts racing through his head at that moment, but what frightened Dean the most about such a fact was that he couldn't even begin to guess what any of those thoughts might be. There were just too many! Only by drawing on his own personal experience with the multitude of patterns that defined Sam Winchester's existence was he even remotely capable of predicting what might happen next.

"Please, just don't hurt her."

"Sammy!" Dean yelled. "Get inside!" Like _that _was going to do any good!

"Listen to your brother, Sam," Ellen agreed, staring at that gun. Douglas had his eyes on the boy… Maybe she could… It wasn't exactly as if she were a Hunter or anything… Not like the Winchesters, in any case. But… she _did_ know her way around a decent weapon…

Sam shook his head. He wasn't ten years old anymore! And as terrified as he was of Chet Douglas, he had learned long ago not to let fear get in the way. Otherwise… he'd never be able to fight anything supernatural. "I won't go anywhere." Shaking visibly, he took a deep breath and glanced at Ellen's assailant. "Without your permission." Those words were enough to choke him to death.

Douglas nodded in obvious approval. He held up the gun, away from Ellen, walked around her, and started towards Sam. "You're a good boy, Tommy. I'm proud of you."

Jo scrambled towards her mother and helped her to her feet. Clearly taken aback, the two of them both turned around to watch in stunned horror as Douglas stopped in front of the youngest Winchester – who had never stood more rigidly in his entire life. Half a second later, the man was embracing him as if they really were father and son!

Sam closed his eyes. The last time he had felt this helpless… he had been pinned against the side of a wall, powerlessly watching as the demon tortured his brother to death. Right now… he wasn't sure which was worse.

"Damn it, Sammy!" Dean couldn't take anymore of this. His heart – which felt like it was on fire – began slowing down as he succumbed to his good old Hunting instincts. The instincts that consistently urged him to kill, that allowed him to shoot a demon straight through the head without so much as even _once_ caring that, in so doing, he was also killing an innocent man. The instincts that brought him to decapitate a vampire in the dirtiest, bloodiest, way possible while actually finding enjoyment in the slaughter. Hell, those were the instincts that turned him into a monster! Truth be told, if _anyone_ in the Winchester family had a right to fear becoming a killing freak, it sure as hell wasn't Sammy! No one – not the demon, and certainly not Chet Douglas – was going to take his little brother away from him! He stormed forward, holding the knife firmly in hand… "You get off him, you sick bastard!"

It didn't take a genius to figure out just how pissed off he was. From where Ellen and Jo stood, even a _blind_ man would have been able to see it clear as day! Douglas took a small step away from Sam and turned his head to watch as the elder Winchester approached. There was a hard glint in his eye that spoke of a jealousy so powerful it had long since converted into pure hatred.

"Jo, get to the impala," Ellen said breathlessly, pushing her daughter towards the car. There was no longer any hope of finding shelter within the Roadhouse, as Douglas was now standing between them and the front door. Besides, Jo knew about the weapons in the trunk. No doubt she'd be able to bust into it, getting her hands on some real firepower. Ellen didn't want Jo fighting, but she'd definitely feel better knowing the girl had something more than her fists and legs to use for protection. And once she was off running towards the car, Ellen found herself capable of turning back to watch as Douglas faced Dean completely… holding up the gun.

"NO!" Sam shouted, reaching forward to grab Douglas's arm in an attempt to stop him. But the man was easily twice his size, and, considering the boy's present condition, twice as strong. Sam's struggles were completely in vain… As Jo's had been…

"Oh my God," Ellen's heart jumped as the gun went off.

Dean's body practically did a full one-eighty, and the next thing any of them knew, he was on the ground, cursing loudly and groaning in understandable pain.

"DEAN!" Sam shrieked, attempting to push past his brother's would-be killer. But Douglas was a hell of a lot faster. Spinning around, he struck Sam hard across the face with the back of the hand that was holding the gun. The force of such an onslaught sent the boy flying to his hands and knees, blood spilling from his mouth.

"It looks like you've still got a thing or two to learn 'bout minding me, Tommy," Douglas spat furiously, grabbing a fistful of Sam's hair and jerking it savagely.

Jo, who had heard the gunshot from the impala, turned her head to watch in astonishment as Dean pushed up to his knees. His shoulder was drenched in blood, but considering how close he had been to Douglas when that gun had gone off, she knew only too well just how lucky he was to still be alive. There was no way on earth he'd be that fortunate a second time.

"Oh, hell with it," Ellen started running. That boy was going to get himself killed!

"I'm gonna murder you!" Dean informed the man furiously – though lacking a bit of the volume he had had before. Douglas glanced back at him in distaste. Wrapping an arm around Sam's neck, pulling the boy up, he spat at the ground in front of Dean and aimed the gun at him once again.

"NO!" Sam shrieked, panic sweeping across his face.

"DEAN!" Ellen leapt towards the eldest Winchester, who was making a definite effort to get up in spite of Douglas's gun. In spite of the danger. It spite of the very world, it almost seemed!

Douglas fired a second time. Ellen felt the bullet breeze past her as she crashed into Dean so forcefully that they were both sent hurtling to the ground. The boy's already wounded shoulder rammed heavily into the dirt, and not even _he_ could help but curse loudly and vehemently as pain worse than fire coursed through his entire body.

"MOM!" Jo's heart stopped. The bullet had missed its target, yes – but only by a _thread_. And though the girl had definitely been pissed with the woman for the past several days, she did _not_ want to lose her! She couldn't… possibly… The boys were both orphans, true, and they were getting along just as well as could be expected, but Jo… She honestly didn't think that _she_ could make it if she lost her only family.

_So this is why she doesn't want me hunting…_

"Sam!" Dean, having breathed in a cloud of dust from the fall, began coughing. He tried getting up again, but Ellen pushed him back down, and, what with the pain in his shoulder practically paralyzing him, he couldn't fight her. "Sammy!" Damn it! He hunted things like ghosts, ghouls, goblins and things-that-go-bump-in-the-night on a friggin' daily basis! He couldn't let this happen! He couldn't be taken out by an ordinary human! Not like this…

"NO!" Sam was struggling savagely against Douglas's hold on him, but he couldn't break free. The man had him in a headlock, and he wasn't letting go. "Don't hurt them!"

Douglas had the gun trained on Ellen. She looked up at him, once again contemplating the pros and cons of trying to disarm him. Holding Sam the way he was, he'd clearly be at a disadvantage… if she was even remotely capable of wrapping her hands around that gun before he fired it a third time… which she probably wasn't. This man seemed to have every intention of killing her. He wouldn't hesitate long enough to give her much of a chance to do anything.

"MOM!" Jo screamed again, all reason abandoning her. She pulled free her father's knife – which was a hell of a lot smaller than Dean's, but which had nevertheless served her _extremely_ well on her first hunt – and charged towards the giant thug.

A shot rang out through the distance, and it wasn't from Douglas's gun. Jo came to a sudden halt as she watched none other than Ash, Dr. Badass, himself walking out of the Roadhouse with a rifle in his hands. A small smile lit up her face.

"What the fuck?" Douglas turned his head to locate the newcomer. Ash hadn't fired any bullets his way for fear of hitting Sam, but just the fact that he was standing there with a gun in his hands was enough to put the man on guard.

"Sammy," Dean moaned, trying to get up again, but Ellen held him down. She wouldn't let him go anywhere, and hardly cared that he might later hate her for it. She might not have been _his_ mother, but she was still a mother, and she'd sooner rot in hell than allow anything at all to happen to these boys. At least Douglas didn't seem overly eager to shoot Sam. If he had, maybe _then_ she'd let Dean go… if she wasn't the one to attack him herself first.

Douglas was backing away from her, Dean, and the Roadhouse, while dragging Sam with him towards his station wagon. He kept the gun fixed on Ellen, but was staring at Ash warily. Unfortunately, the Roadhouse's local genius seemed unwilling to shoot his own weapon while the boy was caught in the line of fire, lest he get killed instead. For the time being, all any of them could do was watch and wait.

From the corner of her eye, Ellen could see Jo walking forward, almost at a stroll. Anyone else would have failed to observe the knife she was holding, but, again, Ellen was a mother, and she knew exactly what Jo was thinking. Stupid girl! "Jo, get back to the car!"

"Mom!" Her concern for the woman quickly faded back into frustration. Why did she have to go and blow her cover like that? Douglas's gaze momentarily flickered over towards her, but she was still pretty far away from him and didn't appear to be that much of a threat.

"You better listen to her, sweetheart," he snarled while tightening his hold on Sam. "'Cause if you put any ideas in Tommy's head 'bout disrespecting his father, I'm just gonna have to beat it right outta him. And I can promise you it won't be pretty." Sam winced, and that, more than anything else, caused Jo to falter. What was he talking about?

Dean groaned. "If you hurt him, I swear to God I'll kill you in the most painful way possible!"

"Keep your mouth shut, Dean!" Ellen held him down as he tried for the umpteenth time to get back onto his feet. She fixed her gaze brazenly on Douglas. "That boy right there is not your son, mister. Your son was the kid in the newspaper clipping you showed me back inside the saloon, remember? Thomas Jergenson? He's a completely different person-"

"He ran away!" Douglas snapped irately, his face practically turning a shade of purple. Ellen sat back in apprehension; she hadn't wanted to piss the guy off even more than he already was! "Don't you see? He ran away! But Tommy here…" He took a moment to glance down at Sam, who was still trying to break free – albeit pathetically. He still looked petrified, and quite possibly in as much pain as his older brother. Douglas, however, didn't seem to care – if he even noticed! "Tommy was _taken_ from me! He's a good boy! I'd do anything for him! And I sure as hell won't allow anyone to separate us ever again!"

"You're insane!" Jo shouted at him. What kind of a mess had Sam gotten himself into?

"No, but you _are _mistaken!" Ellen glanced quickly from her daughter back to Douglas. And then her gaze focused on Sam. She _had _to help him! She needed to… This wasn't right! "His name is not Tommy! It's Sam Winchester!" She hesitated… More than anyone else in the world, she knew just how much Mary meant to those two boys, God rest her soul. For what she was about to say, they might not ever forgive her. After all, boys were kind of just like that… And who wasn't? Then again, if Sam was willing to address this monster as his own father, she might not have a problem here at all! Taking a deep breath, while knowing full well that this might very well be the last straw… that this might be what ultimately pushed the two boys away from her for good… she continued. "And I know that as a fact because he is my son."

_Oh, for the love of…_

Dean started coughing again, but this time it wasn't because of any thick clouds of dust and grime. Ash fumbled with the rifle, practically dropping it, while a look of open shock crossed Jo's face. None of them could believe what they had just heard! Not that Ellen particularly blamed them… Hell, she could barely believe it herself!

_This was a bad idea!_

But, having come this far already, she _knew_ without a doubt that there wasn't any turning back. She had just claimed to be Sam's mother! To a man who was claiming to be Sam's father! Of course they weren't – they weren't even close – but Ellen knew it wasn't going to be particularly easy for Sam to recover from something like this! What had she been thinking? Damn, why must desperate times call for such desperate measures? "Now you let him go, or I swear to God-!"

"You're his mother?" Douglas interrupted, staring at her suspiciously. She slowly nodded her head, unable to look anywhere else but at his face. Time seemed to come to a standstill; never in her entire life had it ever passed _quite_ this slowly… But then… a look of extreme rage crossed his face. He started screaming, and the next thing any of them knew, he was pulling the trigger.

**ooooooo**

**A/N:** If you wanna read more, you're just gonna have to review… I really appreciate it! Thanks so much!


	4. Chapter 4

**Warning: **Here's a side to Ellen no one's ever seen before… Now, the title of this story has the word 'mother' in it for a reason, so, consider yourself warned.

**ooooooo**

"NO!" Instinct took complete control over the younger Winchester, and despite the fact that Douglas's arm was still wrapped painfully tight around his neck, he somehow managed to grab the man's wrist with his left hand. Jerking it back towards him with all the strength he had left, Sam prayed to God he'd be fast enough. And sure enough… he somehow was.

The gun went off, but the bullet was _not_ propelled in Ellen's direction, as Douglas had so maliciously intended. Rather, it shot towards Ash, who practically fell over in his haste to take cover, dropping the rifle as he went. Douglas cursed, looking down at Sam in surprise as the boy fought madly to protect those who meant the world to him. "Tommy!"

_NO! That's _not_ my name!_ Sam's headache was returning, but he didn't think it had anything to do with psychic abilities. Not this time. It had more to do with the arm that was choking him, and the memories that were torturing him, and the fear that he wouldn't be able to save his family!

_"Sammy," _his father's voice from so many years ago, when Sam had last been held in this position by Chet Douglas, echoed in his mind. _"Whatever happens… You do what you have to do. Understand?"_

Yeah, he understood. Sometimes he wished John Winchester hadn't forgotten about giving him that particular piece of advice, but he understood it now, and he'd practically been living his life by it all this time. He couldn't stop… Dean was always protecting him… It had to be his turn! This wasn't anyone's fight but his own.

"Get off me!" Twisting slightly inward towards Douglas, Sam violently smashed his elbow into the bastard's gut. He didn't know, or particularly care, where this sudden burst of adrenaline had come from, but it was enough to knock the man slightly forward. Twisting even further, Sam managed to swing his inner leg around and positioned it behind Douglas's. A heartbeat later, he rammed his fist into the man's groin, bringing them both down heavily to the ground. Douglas was gasping in pain, and for the moment quite unable to stop Sam as he untangled himself and grabbed the gun. Scrambling away, the youngest Winchester half ran half crawled towards his brother. "DEAN!"

"Sam, honey, give me that!" Ellen motioned for the gun, and he surrendered it without argument. As she got to her feet holding it, Sam reached for his brother, who had, by that point, lost a hell of a lot of blood and wasn't at all happy about it.

"Sam?"

Ellen tried to ignore the two as Sam helped his brother sit up. Already Douglas seemed to be recovering, and she fixed the gun on him, stepping far enough away so that he wouldn't be able to lunge at her without getting shot first in the face. "You stay down, mister, you hear me?" He looked at her with fire blazing furiously in his eyes, but, for the moment at least, obeyed her nonetheless. Now was _not_ the time for her to be getting careless! Without turning her eyes away from the maniac, she continued handing out instructions. "Sam, get your brother to the car and start driving! Take Jo with you. Ash, get inside and call the cops!"

The smart one didn't hesitate to obey, and neither would've Sam, but when he tried helping Dean to his feet, his brother pushed him back. "Nah, I'm good. I'm staying with Ellen."

"Dean!" Sam stared at his brother impatiently. He wasn't exactly comfortable with the idea of leaving the woman alone with Douglas either, but with the gun, she had the upper hand right now, while Dean was bleeding pretty badly. He needed to get his wound taken care of. But, sure enough, no one had reckoned with the eldest Winchester's obstinacy. And to make matters worse, he wasn't the only one.

"I'm not going anywhere!" Jo was standing slightly off to the side with her father's knife held firmly in hand, more than ready to use it at a moment's notice. The look on her face spoke of concern, fury, and obstinacy all mixed together into one giant combination of youthful rebellion.

It was all Ellen could do not swear loudly in exasperation. This was _exactly_ why effective chains of command were in such high demand! Damn it, John Winchester! If he were here right now dishing out orders, no one would think twice about questioning him! It sure was lucky they were dealing with a freak show like this damn nut job and not the demon itself. Otherwise they'd be screwed over in so many ways simply because they couldn't seem to listen to or trust one another! "This isn't negotiable! If the three of you don't get inside that car right now, there'll be hell to pay!"

Dean was on his feet now, and seemed to have forgotten all about the hole in his shoulder. After all, it wasn't as if he hadn't ever been shot before, and right now he was still boiling over with such fury that he could barely even see straight. The only thing he was even remotely capable of focusing on was Chet Douglas. The jackass who had _dared_ hurt his brother! "Whatever, _mom_. I'll be more than willing to pay it once I collect from this sorry bastard."

Ellen flinched, and against her better judgment glanced towards the boy. He was practically foaming at the mouth, and the only reason he hadn't lunged towards Douglas already was because Sam was clutching his uninjured arm as tightly as he would a life float in the middle of the ocean. "Dean, it's not worth it! Sam isn't going to go anywhere without you, and the longer he's here, the more of a chance you have at losing him! Now I won't say it again!"

Dean was shaking in fury. There was nothing he would have liked better than to kick the crap out of Douglas, but Ellen had a point. Besides… He glanced from her to Sam, and then finally back to Douglas, who appeared to be every bit as livid as he felt. A small smile lit his face. "Fine." He clearly wasn't speaking to Ellen. His attention was directed entirely towards his old neighbor. "I guess I'll just have to take satisfaction in the fact that _you_ get to watch _me_ driving away with precious little Tommy." Douglas's face twisted into unimaginable rage as Dean wrapped his good arm around his brother and started towards the impala. "Coming, Jo?"

The blonde was about to shake her head again, when Ellen interrupted. "Joanna Beth Harvelle, if you ever want to hunt again, than on occasion you are going to _have _to do as I tell you! Now go with Sam and Dean!"

"Oh, so this morning you wouldn't trust me with them and now you do?" Jo demanded accusatorily, causing her mother to turn away huffing in frustration. She glared at Douglas angrily, as if he were to blame for all of this. He didn't return her glare, however, for he was staring at Dean almost feverishly. Now _he _was the one breaking out in sweat, panting like a rabid dog.

Jo shook her head in disgust, but nevertheless turned towards the impala and started after the Winchesters. Dean definitely seemed to want to make as much of a show out of it as possible, and so instead of allowing Sam to help _him_ climb into the backseat of the car, he motioned for his brother to get in.

"I'm driving."

Sam stared at his brother in disbelief. "Dean, you're bleeding! Can you even use that arm?"

"Shut up, Sam, and get in the car," Dean replied stiffly, leaning against the driver's door. The two of them stared at each other for several seconds before Jo managed to catch up.

"Sorry, Sam, but I'm with Dean on this one," she grumbled, batting the youngest Winchester into the back. "We might as well make the most of this, and the look on that bastard's face is priceless." She glanced back at Douglas and offered him a mocking wave before climbing in after Sam. Dean slammed the door shut once she was in.

And that was all it took. Douglas couldn't stomach the sight of that door closing, hiding his boy from sight. Just _thinking_ about having to watch that car driving off with his son was unendurable! He wouldn't allow it! He'd kill Dean first. Enraged, he pushed up to his feet and charged like tidal wave. He'd kill him! He'd kill him! He'd kill him! He'd kill him!

Ellen shot the gun.

She shot it again.

And then she emptied it.

Dean turned his head in astonishment. The car's two backdoors both flung open up as Jo got out and as Sam ran around to the front of the vehicle. Chet Douglas was on the ground… He had three ugly holes in his chest… from which blood was overflowing…

"Oh my God…" Jo was not fainthearted. She did not have a weak stomach. The sight of the bastard's body lying there would have been more of a curiosity to her than anything else… had her mother not been the one holding the gun. She started struggling to breathe, walking forward as if irresistibly drawn towards the corpse. When she passed by Dean, however, he reached his good arm out and grabbed hers, holding her back.

Ellen herself was trembling. She had never killed a man before… and though there wasn't even a _single_ scrap of her being that regretted pulling the trigger… just the very shock that came from having done so was enough to rip out her heart. She dropped the weapon and stood there for about an eternity in absolute silence.

"Is he…?" Sam could hardly breathe himself. There was no way… After all this… It couldn't be… over…?

"Yeah, nice aim!" Dean commented, shaking his head in incredulity. He hadn't seen _this_ coming. But he knew he wouldn't forget it. It was just another display of one timeless law of nature he had learned back in Lawrence a year ago when he, Sam, and Missouri had banded together to get rid of a poltergeist. Heaven help the thing – whether it was a man or a demon – that threatened a child in front of a righteously pissed off mother.

**ooooooo**

The cops came and went. All the experts came and went. The body was removed. An ambulance came for Dean, but he refused medical attention, and so that went as well. After all, he'd much rather keep an eye out for Sammy while tending to his own wounds than being stuck in some crummy hospital all over again. God, he _hated _hospitals with every fiber of his soul! If it were up to him, he would never step foot inside one again, for as long as he lived!

It didn't seem possible that all the official business with the state and the inevitable investigation could be wrapped up so completely in just a couple of hours. Dean _swore_ that such matters generally took weeks… or at least longer than a day. But Ellen had her own connections – Ash being one of them – and everything was taken care of before her usual customers arrived for dinner. Not that they'd be having dinner there on that particular night… Ellen hadn't lied when she told Douglas that the saloon would be closing early. After everything that had happened, she knew without a doubt that there wasn't anyway in _Hell_ she'd be able to tolerate business of any sort whatsoever. She was just too damned tired.

Jo was in her room, pretty much hiding from the world. She had been put through a lot in the past several days, and right now just needed to be alone. Ash was outside, ready to fend off anymore straggling cops and reporters – who were harder to get rid of than cockroaches. Sam was sitting at the bar with his head down. Dean was sitting at a small corner table, cleaning one of his guns – despite his injured arm. Ellen herself was pouring several large glasses of whiskey. She had no idea whether or not she'd be sharing them with anyone. More than likely, she'd just end up drinking it all herself.

"Tommy," Dean suddenly dropped the gun on the table, looking up towards Ellen. She and Sam both turned their heads around in surprise. Whatever they had been expecting to have break the silence, this sure as hell wasn't it.

"Dude," the younger Winchester stared at his brother in open confusion and slight offense. "My name's Sam."

"I know, I know," Dean waved that remark aside almost carelessly. "I'm talking about Tommy Douglas. The real one. You think he's still alive? He was just a kid when he ran away. I was absolutely sure he wouldn't make it out on the streets."

"Well," Ellen shrugged. "The kid in the newspaper article your friend, Douglas, showed me _was_ named Thomas. He might have changed his last name to fend off his father, but then again, his father was crazier than Norman Bates, so…" She took a small sip of her drink. "Who knows."

"Someone should find him," Dean said glumly, picking his gun up again. "Let him know he doesn't have to keep looking over his shoulder." Ellen nodded. She'd have Ash look into it later. Right now, however… it wasn't exactly the first thing on her list of priorities.

"It doesn't seem right," Sam whispered. Dean glanced up in time to watch his brother massage the side of his head again. He looked like he was in more pain than Dean was himself, and he hadn't even been shot at once!

"What?" he asked, and Sam looked back at him.

"Any of it," he confessed. "First we find out that dad…" He stopped short and glanced apologetically at Ellen, who turned away from him and took another sip of her drink. Sam bit his lip before looking back at his brother. "And now this? Dad promised we'd never see the guy again! That we'd be safe from him!"

"Well, we're safe from him now," Dean shot back irritably. "And you did real good out there, Sam. Kicked the crap out of him. Don't get me wrong. I wish I'd gotten that chance. But dad trained us well, and he didn't have to worry about either one of us getting beat by a freak like Douglas."

"He really wasn't perfect…" Sam whispered. Of course, he and his father had had their fair share of disagreements on so many different levels, but when it came to hunting… when it came to actually _protecting_ his children… and keeping safe his friends and allies… Sam had always believed that their dad truly was completely and utterly infallible! But now this…? How was he supposed to cherish John Winchester's memory when the truth of it was that his father…?

"Sammy!"

The boy glanced up at his brother in increasing despair. Dean saw it and glowered. "Forget it, okay? I don't want to hear any of that coming from you. Understand?"

He couldn't help it. "I'm just saying-"

"Well, don't!"

Sam sighed and allowed his head to sink back down onto the table, covering it with his arms. There wouldn't be any escaping this. When his family had rescued him from Douglas the first time, they had been able to pile into the impala and leave. They had driven through miles and miles of darkness, the whole night long. Sam had been able to recover. He… he didn't know whether or not he could do that a second time. It just… hurt… so much.

Things weren't ever going to be the same again. Only the hard and brutal truth could open wounds like this, and the truth of the matter was… John Winchester had not been the man Sam thought he was. Dean was still in denial, and probably would be for an incredibly long time. He just couldn't accept the possibility that his father held any sort of responsibility whatsoever for William Harvelle's death. It was… too much to ask for.

"Your father was a good man," Ellen finally turned around to look at them both. And they met her gaze, surprised and helplessly curious. The woman looked so tired – which was understandable – and also heartbroken – which was possibly even more so. It was all she could do not to start crying again. "I don't expect you boys to understand… We've all lost people we love, but in your cases… it was the demon's fault… which, believe it or not, doesn't hurt even half as much because you actually expect it to be cruel… I'm sorry you think I don't trust you, Dean, because I do. I just… I can't _afford_ to have faith in anyone. Because, more than anything else, it was my faith that betrayed me, and I won't feel that way again. The truth is, John Winchester was like a brother to me, once. And when he left, I had no one but a tiny little girl who just couldn't understand where her papa was. I felt like I'd been abandoned."

"Well you don't have to worry about that happening again," Dean told her haughtily; haughtily because he couldn't stand all this vulnerability. It was yet another chick-flick moment, and he would do or say absolutely anything to escape it. There had just been… too many of those recently. A guy could only be expected to take so much pain in such a short amount of time! And so… he looked up at Ellen brazenly. "I'm not losing anymore of my family. That demon's heading straight back to hell, and then that'll be that."

Ellen shook her head. "Don't expect me to buy that one. You're not half as confident as you sound, and I don't blame you for it." She looked away from him then and focused on Sam. "Look, let's just forget about that last hunt you boys went on. I want you spending the night here, and if your head still hurts in the morning, I'll see what I can do about finding someone who can-"

"We've already tried," Dean interrupted, concentrating on the gun he was cleaning. "There's no one, lady. No one."

Ellen glanced at him in exasperation before looking back at the younger brother. "Does it always hurt so much?"

"Yeah," Sam admitted, staring at the countertop. "Honestly, it's been worse in the past. And Dean's right. I don't think there's anyone out there who can do anything about it." Dean glanced up at the two soberly. He didn't like being reminded of his own helplessness when Sam's visions were kicking in.

"We'll figure something out," Ellen told him, reaching for his hand and giving it a comforting squeeze. Sam smiled softly, but it was a humorless, desolate kind of smile.

"Thanks," he whispered. "But I can't afford that kind of faith, either." Ellen nodded.

At that moment, they were all interrupted by the opening and closing of a door in background. Seconds later, Jo was storming into the barroom, where she then proceeded to take an indignant seat next to Dean, crossed her arms, and stared at her mother with a set jaw and blazing eyes. "What did you mean when you told Chet Douglas that Sam was your son?"

"Excuse me?" Ellen asked, painfully startled, as both boys tensed and glanced back and forth between the two in inevitable alarm. Neither could deny that they were both also being haunted by the exact same question themselves, and had been for the past several hours.

"You heard me," Jo snapped. "You said Sam was your son. I want to know what you meant."

For one incredibly long second, Ellen just stared at the three of them in bleak dismay. They were all quite obviously waiting for her answer, and in all honesty, she was rather surprised they hadn't brought it up before now. She was past the point of fearing that the boys never forgive her for making such a claim – otherwise they would have fled a long time ago. But… it hadn't occurred to the woman that her daughter might also be insulted by it. That was just her luck.

Sighing, she shook her head. "I didn't mean anything by it. The man was delusional. I just wanted to throw him off his guard." She eyed the eldest Winchester. "Unless, of course, you're willing to be adopted."

Dean coughed, _loudly_, glanced at Jo, and got to his feet. "You know something, I think it's best we took off." He glanced at his brother. "What do you say, Sammy? Road trip?"

Sam seemed to consider that for a moment, but, in all honesty, there wasn't anyway in hell he'd object to a long ride in the car. "Yeah, I think so." He gave Ellen one last glance. "I _am_ sorry. For all the trouble I caused."

"Don't lose any sleep over it, Sam," she told him solemnly. Little did she knew, Sam hardly ever got any sleep as it was. And he'd probably not sleep the whole night through again for several weeks to come. It was just… yet another part of his little brother that Dean couldn't help… couldn't protect… couldn't save… He felt like he was failing… His father had told him to look out for Sammy… Dean only wished that he could.

Together, the brothers walked out of the Roadhouse. They made for the impala. And they headed out towards the countryside. In the past few days, they had gone through so, so much… And despite everything… despite any understandings they might have made with Ellen… despite any ties that might have been either cemented or destroyed… they didn't know when they'd be coming back.

Like father, like sons… Ellen had offered them shelter. But sometimes it was easier to camp out in the snow and rain. Or in the impala. It was the closest thing either Winchester had to a real home… It _felt_ like it had been their home for so long… Sometimes it was just easier… to avoid the people who cared about them. Because they didn't want to hurt anyone anymore than they already had. And so they drove on into the distance… into the blanket of darkness… where they would have to find comfort in their own individual solitude.

**ooooooo**

**A/N: **I had to end it in four chapters so that it would match its prequel. Besides, my sister's yelling at me to start working on another one of my projects. But I hope you all enjoyed it, and I'm definitely looking forward to your reviews. Thanks so much!


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